


hold our breaths with mouths together now

by corsicana



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corsicana/pseuds/corsicana
Summary: The boy seems to be right out of a dream with his fiery red hair, just messy enough that Dimitri wants to run a hand through it and see if it catches, with how his eyes are just golden enough that they glimmer in the light. A dimple appears on his cheek when he laughs at one of the professor’s terrible puns.And in that moment, Dimitri is seized with the terrible, awful desire to kiss him, and hasn’t taken a single note since. All he can think about is how the boy next to him is probably biting on his pen and getting his lips all deep red from the pressure, and what it would be like to make his lips the same color for a different reason.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 85





	hold our breaths with mouths together now

Dimitri has a problem.

He has failed to take any notes for the third consecutive time in his politics seminar. This is hardly normal behavior for him—he’s usually a model student, the apple of the professor’s eye. That it took him this long to recognize it only illustrates how much of an issue this is.

He only has himself to blame, of course. Something so trifling should hardly be taking up this much of his attention. Dimitri should never have even noticed it in the first place.

The boy who sits next to Dimitri in his politics seminar bites the top of his pen whenever he’s thinking. It’s a bad habit—disgusting, really. At least, that’s what Dimitri thinks when he first sees him doing it. But for some reason—for some reason, Dimitri’s line of sight climbs up from the pen to the boy’s lips. He can’t help but notice how flushed red they are, how soft they seem, how _pretty_ the boy is. 

Maybe “pretty” is the wrong word, but it’s the only one that Dimitri can think of. The boy seems to be right out of a dream with his fiery red hair, just messy enough that Dimitri wants to run a hand through it and see if it catches, with how his eyes are just golden enough that they glimmer in the light. A dimple appears on his cheek when he laughs at one of the professor’s terrible puns. 

And in that moment, Dimitri is seized with the terrible, awful desire to kiss him, and hasn’t taken a single note since. All he can think about is how the boy next to him is probably biting on his pen and getting his lips all deep red from the pressure, and what it would be like to make his lips the same color for a different reason.

The worst part of it all is that Dimitri doesn’t even know his name. Professor Byleth doesn’t bother with introductions or ice-breakers—she just gets right into the class material from the first day on, which Dimitri usually appreciates. Now? Not so much.

Dimitri’s never been all that socially adept—he’s lucky Felix and Ingrid carolled him into a friend group from the second their first-year orientation started. There’s no way he can be so forward as to ask the boy his name, especially not without seeming like a fool, especially not when Dimitri’s head is constantly muddled by the sound of his laugh, the shine of his eyes—

Dimitri grips his pencil so hard he accidentally breaks it in two. He hasn’t done that in a while. He glances over to the boy to see if he’s noticed, and, because the Goddess hates him, of course he has. Dimitri can feel the blush rise to his cheeks as they make eye contact. He didn’t even have to speak to make a fool of himself.

But then the boy’s lips quirk into a smile, one that’s amused instead of mocking. A smile just for Dimitri, _because_ of Dimitri, and—Dimitri has to look away before his face turns beet red.

It continues on like this for the first week or two of classes, until Professor Byleth pulls him aside. It sends a spark of fear through him—even after all the classes he’s taken with her, he still can’t quite read the neutral expression on her face. Is she about to lecture him for his absolute lack of participation in class, or—worse, has she somehow figured out just _why_ he’s not participated at all?

Blessedly, she waits for the rest of the class to filter out of the room before she speaks. “I noticed you haven’t been performing as you usually do. I know very well how capable of a student you are, so I don’t mind if you’re just adjusting to a new year, but I thought I’d ask. Has Sylvain been bothering you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sylvain. The redhead that sits next to you. I’ve had him a few times before, and he’s…” She pauses for a moment, as though choosing her words with care. “He can be a lot to handle. I didn’t think you two would work particularly well together, but I didn’t think it’d impact you like this. I can certainly rearrange the classroom if that will—”

“No,” Dimitri says all too quickly. “No, he’s not been a bother at all. Please do not think badly of him on my account. I simply… misjudged my course load this semester and am, as you said, adjusting. That’s all.”

She levels him with a gaze that’s a little too knowing for his tastes. “If you’re sure, Dimitri. Just let me know if he gets to be too much. You wouldn’t be the first one to complain.”

Dimitri excuses himself quickly, thoughts circling endlessly around what the professor said. _Sylvain_. The name rolls off his tongue nicely, all too sweet and cloying.

Dimitri still doesn’t recognize him, which is frustrating. If Professor Byleth knows Sylvain enough to give such a testimonial, Sylvain must be a politics major, too, yet Dimitri’s never noticed him. 

Dimitri’s still pitifully stuck on the whole affair as he and Ingrid eat dinner together in the dining hall. Maybe the issue is that Sylvain recently changed majors or transferred into the school? Or maybe—

“Dimitri.” Ingrid’s voice cuts through his inner turmoil. “Are you alright? I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. If you’re stressed about an assignment or something, you know I don’t mind if you head out early.”

“Oh, it’s—not that.” Dimitri wishes it was. “It’s rather embarrassing, though. I’m loath to…”

“You can tell me anything, Dimitri. I’m not going to make fun of you for whatever it is.” A smile slides onto her face. “You know Felix would give you hell, though, so you’d better tell me before you tell him.”

“You’re not wrong,” Dimitri sighs. “It’s… I would not say that I’ve met someone, exactly. But something to that effect. It’s complicated.”

Ingrid’s face lights up. “Ooh, you’re interested in someone? Who is it? Do I know them?”

“I’m not sure. That’s the crux of the issue, really. I only just learned his name by chance today. Do you happen to know someone named Sylvain?”

“Sylvain?” Ingrid repeats after a moment. “You can’t mean _Sylvain_. Politics major, red hair?” Dimitri nods, uncertain of what her reaction means. “Dimitri, he’s—he’s no good. You really haven’t heard all the rumors about him?”

“You know I am not very… _involved_ socially, Ingrid.”

Ingrid heaves a sigh. “Sylvain’s reputation precedes him. He’s notorious for, well…” She winces. “Supposedly, he’ll flirt with just about everything that moves. That’s not terrible in and of itself, but people say that he’ll take advantage of you until he gets bored of you and just toss you aside for the next person that catches his eye, and so on. I don’t know what he did to capture your attention, but you’d best move on. Quickly.”

Dimitri frowns. The face he knows doesn’t go together quite right with that story, like a mismatched puzzle piece. “Are you quite sure of that?”

“It’s just what I’ve heard.” Ingrid shrugs. “But I’ve heard it over and over again, so I wouldn’t doubt it too much.”

Ingrid is hardly the type to buy into baseless rumors, much less spread them. That she’s even telling Dimitri this much means there must be some stock in what she’s saying. And yet, Dimitri has this needling feeling that he shouldn’t listen. Felix would call him naive, and maybe it is; but Dimitri would rather be naive than distrusting and scornful by judging Sylvain off word of mouth.

Nonetheless, trepidation wells up in Dimitri once the next session of his politics seminar rolls around. What is he going to feel when he looks at Sylvain now? Will it be the same? Will it be nothing at all? Which is worse?

Sylvain arrives right as class starts, so Dimitri always gets there before him. Today is no exception: Sylvain takes his seat a few words into the professor’s review of the previous class. Dimitri has to ready himself to glance at Sylvain, because he’s made a mountain out of a molehill. 

As if on cue, the professor decides then that it’s the perfect time to announce, “We’ll be doing a group project for the next few classes. Just to make it easy for everyone, I’d like you to partner with the person sitting next to you.”

Dimitri sits on the edge of a row, so the only person sitting next to him is Sylvain. A thrill runs through Dimitri’s veins. The professor continues, summarizing the project as she passes out rubrics, but soon enough closes out the lecture to give each pair time to work out logistics. It’s a project Dimitri generally wouldn’t have too much trouble with, but these are extenuating circumstances. Keeping his expression carefully blank, Dimitri turns to Sylvain, who’s already facing him.

“So, you and me, huh?” Sylvain’s voice is honeyed and smooth, all too pleasing to the ears. Of course it is. “You’re Dimitri, right?”

Dimitri likes the way his name sounds on Sylvain’s tongue a little too much. How Sylvain knows his name, though, he isn’t sure—actually, there’s no reason Sylvain _should_ know. “I am, yes.”

“It suits you. A pretty name for a pretty face, yeah?” Sylvain winks at him, and, oh, Dimitri can see where that reputation comes from. That doesn’t stop his heart from seizing in his chest for a moment or stop heat from rising to his cheeks, though—nobody’s ever been so forward with him.

Dimitri’s overreaction is embarrassing, yet if Sylvain’s grin—endearing—is anything to go by, he takes satisfaction from it. “Hey, no need to get so flustered. It’s just the truth.”

“Yes, well—” What does one even do in this situation? Thank them? Return the compliment? Move on? “I’m sure yours could say the same. Or, well, that is—I mean to say that—” Dimitri averts his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Nothing to apologize for.” Looking back, Dimitri just barely catches the way Sylvain seems to be smiling ever-so-slightly wider. “That was hardly the worst attempt I’ve seen. I’m Sylvain, by the way. Don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting, but I’ve seen you around the department.”

Ah, so that explains it. “Good to meet you,” Dimitri says, perhaps a little tightly. “We’d best get started on this assignment. Professor Byleth doesn’t tolerate much slacking off.” It’s a half-truth—the professor does run a tight ship, but not to the extent that they couldn’t get to know each other a little first. Would Dimitri be able to handle it if Sylvain dropped another line on him, though? Probably not.

“Should’ve known you’d be that type,” Sylvain says cheekily. Shifting his gaze to the assignment sheet, he comments, “Looks like this one’s gonna be a lot of work.”

Although Dimitri has experience with this genre of assignment, it being a staple in Professor Byleth’s classes, he has to agree. This project requires research into a current topic of political intrigue, culminating with a presentation to the class. Moreover, the professor has added quite a few moving parts. “It certainly seems that way. We should get started on this as soon as possible.”

Sylvain gives Dimitri a bit of a hard time for being, in his words, a “tryhard,” but still agrees to meet up on Friday to work on the assignment. Dimitri is a little surprised that Sylvain so easily gives up his availability on what is effectively a weekend, especially given the way he’s said to spend his leisure time. When Dimitri asks if he’s sure, though, he just winks and says, “I’ve got nowhere I’d rather be.” As if that were true—still, Dimitri gets flustered just as badly as before.

They spend the rest of the class hashing out logistics—who’ll focus on what, particular theories to research, that kind of thing. It goes far better than Dimitri thought it would, excepting when Sylvain sees it fit to flirt with him. He never gets quite used to it. Maybe that’s why Sylvain seems to enjoy it as much as he does.

At the end of class, Sylvain leaves with the flash of a smile and an easygoing “Looking forward to it, Dimitri,” that Dimitri has to fight to not look too much into.

Dimitri well understands where the rumors come from, now. Getting confirmation of one half of the rumors substantiates the other half. Dimitri’s playing with fire, and, worse, has been captured by it. But surely Sylvain can’t be such a good actor that he can fake the intimacy with which he says Dimitri’s name—tender, yet with a spark of interest, of yearning—or his smile when he inevitably flusters Dimitri—all mischievous, yet with a sliver of hope.

Then again, Sylvain would not have the reputation he does if he wasn’t such an actor. Dimitri is hardly well-versed enough in these affairs to figure out where Sylvain stands. Still, Dimitri wants to believe that he isn’t the only one hopelessly, pathetically pining. He believes in Sylvain. 

Even then, a voice in the back of his mind that sounds just like Ingrid tells him that none of this is serious for Sylvain.

/ * \

Friday comes quicker than Dimitri expects. Sylvain texts Dimitri well ahead of their scheduled meeting time with _wanna meet up in my dorm today? porter 320? i don’t like studying in the library, lol._ Dimitri stares at the text for a bit—while he can’t stand the library, either (too quiet, unnervingly so), Sylvain’s room is uncharted territory. Dimitri can hardly handle sitting next to him in class, much less something so intimate.

Against his better judgement, Dimitri still sends back _I don’t mind_. Sylvain replies _:)_ almost immediately, which is endearing in its simplicity.

Felix’s voice cuts into Dimitri’s thoughts. He’s on the other side of their room, trying to work on a report for a class just as Dimitri was. “Wipe that look off your face. You’re not getting any work done smiling at your phone like you’re lovesick.”

“I was not—” 

Felix rolls his eyes. “Sure you weren’t. That sparkle in your eye was definitely about how the assassination of Queen Catherine the Third lent itself to discrimination.” 

Dimitri frowns. Was he _that_ obvious? “I suppose you’re right.”

“Well, if you’ve recognized it, do something about it. Nobody wants to deal with your infatuation, least of all me. I already have to live with you.”

“You know it’s not that easy.” Dimitri glances down at his phone. He still hasn't replied to Sylvain. 

“That’s just an excuse. Their answer isn’t going to change whether or not you wait, is it?”

Dimitri doesn’t reply to Felix, but, eventually, he sends a _:)_ back to Sylvain.

/ * \

Despite not having specific expectations of what Sylvain room would be like, its pristine, tidy state is a surprise. Sylvain’s dorm is a single, but still big enough to be comfortable for two people, and Sylvain’s furnished it nicely.

Sylvain pulls out a chair—one he must’ve bought himself, if the quality is anything to go by—for Dimitri, getting them right down to business, which Dimitri acknowledges with a tinge of disappointment. In any other scenario, Dimitri would be the one hurrying things along, but Dimitri’s too wrapped up in Sylvain to genuinely want to work on the project. Still—grades are grades.

They progress smoothly. There’s scattered conversation between them, ranging from which sources they’ve included in the presentation already to current, mundane campus events. It’s pleasant in a way that Dimitri didn’t expect, and they end up getting a decent amount of work done. They’re in something of a groove, which is probably why Sylvain asks him to meet up again on Monday. Dimitri agrees maybe a bit too quickly, much to Sylvain’s amusement ( _that excited to see me again, huh?_ ).

When they meet up on Monday, it’s much the same. The conversation is a bit more prevalent this time around, and when Sylvain makes Dimitri laugh with a particularly derisive comment about an unreliable source they found, Dimitri is struck by how _easy_ it is to be around him. 

Usually, when Dimitri’s around someone new, anxiety crawls all over his skin like ants, persistent and biting, until that’s all he can focus on. It took him ages to warm up to Ingrid and Felix, even. Yet Sylvain somehow meets Dimitri right where he is, as though he’s always belonged by his side.

While Dimitri has been undeniably attracted to Sylvain for a while, he's had nothing to feed thoughts of what an actual relationship would be like. Now, though, entertaining them is all too tempting—Dimitri can picture with crystal clarity the easy conversation, interspersed with sweet nothings from Sylvain, the mischievous grin on Sylvain’s face as Dimitri flustered. Maybe Sylvain would go a step further, want to make Dimitri’s blush even redder, and go so far as to kiss him, too, tilting his chin up with the gentlest of touches, leaning in painstakingly slowly. All of it seems so simple, so _tangible_.

And, yeah, maybe Dimitri’s getting ahead of himself. He and Sylvain are barely friends, if even that. But that doesn’t stop his heart from pitter-pattering silly in his chest at his imaginations.

On his own, Dimitri doesn’t get any work done.

/ * \

Felix is in a terrible mood the next evening. There’s this aura of menace about him that Dimitri knows well by now; he plans on leaving Felix alone for as long as it’ll last.

Felix seems to have other ideas, though. “Didn’t I tell you to get your act together about your crush?” he snaps. “Do you know how much hell I have to deal with because you’re not doing anything about it?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” Dimitri replies evenly.

“Look, you need to either tell Sylvain that, for some godforsaken reason, you like him back, or that you’re not interested. I’m sick of him texting me every other hour about how cute your smile is or asking for advice on you. It’s sickening, and it has nothing to do with me.”

Dimitri’s chest squeezes almost painfully. “If this is a joke, Felix, it’s not amusing.”

“I _wish_ it was a joke. He said he was going to text you asking if you wanted to work on your politics assignment tomorrow afternoon. You’d better have it figured out by the time you get back from that.”

Sure enough, about half an hour later, Dimitri gets that very text. Hands trembling a little bit, he replies immediately.

/ * \

Very little has changed. Sylvain still carries the conversation easily, still manages to make Dimitri laugh and his heart flutter so nicely. It’s different, though, in that now Dimitri is teeming with a jittery kind of anticipation.

He’s working the guts to say something while staring down at his laptop for ages. When he finally looks to the side, Sylvain is biting the top of his pen again, intently reading a document on his screen. Dimitri stares. He can’t help it. He wants nothing more than to kiss Sylvain right then, to turn both their lips a gleaming red, to—

“Like what you see?” Oh, Sylvain’s noticed. He’s winking at Dimitri, lips quirked into a smirk, and—

“Yes,” Dimitri says, despite himself. It must surprise Sylvain, too, because he actually blushes— a slight, beautiful rosy-red. 

Sylvain’s smirk falters as he fumbles with his pen. “You’ve gotten better at flirting.”

“It’s not flirting,” Dimitri counters, a bit petulantly. “Not when I mean what I say.”

Sylvain blinks once, twice, as Dimitri’s words sink in. He stands up, chair screeching against the floor as he quickly takes the few steps between him and Dimitri. He’s close, closer than he’s ever been, and Dimitri is savoring the feeling of almost-shared breath and body heat when Sylvain cups Dimitri’s face in his hands, looking for consent—Dimitri nods eagerly, not trusting his words.

Sylvain kisses Dimitri like he’s been wanting it forever. The tenderness of it sends a pleasant little shiver down Dimitri’s spine, and leaves him wanting more. He puts his hands on Sylvain’s shoulders to brace himself before kissing back. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not like Sylvain clearly does, but Sylvain still makes a satisfied noise against his lips that Dimitri wants to hear again and again and again.

Sylvain’s mouth opens against his, the touch of Sylvain’s tongue on his lips a not-so-subtle request. Dimitri complies. Sylvain makes that noise again, the one that Dimitri’s already learning to love so much, the one that sends a crackle of heat through his veins. 

Dimitri’s never quite been kissed like this, open-mouthed, passionate, and heated, but he _likes_ it. He likes how they cling to one another, the way he can taste the difference between himself and Sylvain, how that difference is slowly fading, and—

Sylvain pulls away, running his tongue over his own lips, and Dimitri can barely handle the sight. He savors the look on Sylvain’s face—his ragged breathing, dilated pupils, and finally, cherry pink lips. Sylvain’s smile—is not coy, not smug, but disarmingly sincere, all pleased and pure. Dimitri can’t help but return it.

“I think we did that a little out of order, maybe,” Sylvain murmurs. “Kinda stupid to ask this now, but do you wanna get dinner sometime? Not the trash at the dining hall, but something actually, like, good. On me, of course.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> all my love to [luci](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferTM/pseuds/luciferTM) for betaing this!! thank you for your help and dedication ilysm
> 
> thank YOU, too, for reading this! i really hope you enjoyed and i hope it made your day better ;v; please feel free to leave comments and kudos! thanks and have a great day!


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